Leave Out All The Rest
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: “Emotionally, there can be nothing there.” Hoffman built carefully constructed walls around his emotions, not letting any one in. That is, until Amanda Young came crashing through them. HoffmanAmanda, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own the Saw franchise. _

_**Summary: "Emotionally, there can be nothing there." Hoffman built carefully constructed walls around his emotions, not letting any one in. That is, until Amanda Young came crashing through them. HoffmanAmanda, oneshot**_

_So, here it is! My first Saw oneshot. This takes place just a bit before III. I've been wanting to write this for a while, but never really got the chance to. I had a few sentences done, but now it's finished and I'm ready to post it. It's so exciting! Well, for me at least. I hope all the HoffmanAmanda fans like it, and I hope I do the pair justice. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Leave Out All The Rest**

* * *

Hoffman was supposed to be a composed pillar of a man, with no emotions.

Unfeeling, like some monstrous creation.

"_The heart cannot be involved. Emotionally, there can be nothing there."_

His lips find purchase on the woman in front of him, his arms crushing her against her, and he realizes that it had all been a lie. His promises - to not become emotionally involved - had all been conjecture, something that had been drilled into his brain, but now he was going against whatever he had been told. Like some loathsome child. Like a rebellious teenager.

He finds himself not minding that so much.

She groans and shifts herself against his form, trying to find a more appreciative spot against his body, and he lets out a groan as she moves, her skin pressing against his own, causing a searing heat to flash within him, lighting him up like wildfire. His mouth captures her own and she almost gasps at the sensation.

"…_nothing there…"_

The words echo in the back of his mind as he smashes his mouth against Amanda's, her grunt an appreciative sound for his efforts.

"…_cannot be involved…"_

He thinks to hell with what the old man says, because this is just too good and too pleasurable to give up.

Hoffman presses her against the wall, moving his hand to cup her cheek as she digs her heels into his bottom, bringing him even closer than he had been before. Her hair is long and lustrous now, and while he preferred short hair on his women, she can make anything work to her advantage.

"_Mark_…" She groans his first name and he almost feels himself lose it at hearing her mewling voice.

He wonders why he had been unable to sever his feelings for the woman. He had done so with everyone else. It hadn't been hard, though. The last living relative he had was his sister and even now she was gone. The only people he felt anything remotely for were John Kramer and Amanda Young.

Actually, right now, he feels a whole slew of things for the Young girl.

Her nails leave marks on his back even through the material of his shirt as he moves them from the wall to the table, leaning her over the massive amount of blueprints for various traps. She looks at him in defiance, her eyes glancing over where they are and she whips her head back to face him, eyes wild and fiery.

"Do you have any idea how fucking _hard _I worked on those things? We are not going to mess them up like this."

Hoffman smirks, his heart leaping at her gruff voice and ruff demeanor. It reminded him a lot of himself, though he wasn't as quick tempered as she was.

_Keeping your emotions under wraps. _He thinks wryly, a smirk tugging his lips, _That must be something she discarded as well. _

"What? Aren't you gonna say something, asshole?"

He smirks, "I love it when you talk dirty."

Her eyes narrow, but a smile tugs her mouth up as well, "If that was dirty talk to you, I'd hate to see what the other women have been subjecting you to."

Hoffman laughs at her statement, "Right."

Amanda pushes her hands against his chest, and he gives her enough room to maneuver herself off of the table, careful to not mess up any of the drawings and sketches of the random contraptions she had been working on before they had gotten…_distracted_.

She walks away, and to their newest work. Some kind of trap that would hook into the ribs and rip them away if the person didn't retrieve the key in time. He looks at the trap, his eyes appraising the workmanship that had gone into it. He had helped on some parts of it, but she had mostly done the work. It still surprised him that someone like her - a former drug addict and self-abuser - would know so much about mechanics and how things worked. But then, he supposed that was just him profiling before he actually knew the person, a habit that he and his other partners had developed.

He watches her as she shakes her head, the long hair flipping about her shoulders before settling back down along her back like a chocolate brown wave. She bends over and picks up a wrench. While she does that small movement, he looks at her thin arms, the muscles flexing slightly as she picks up the heavy object.

The muscles of her arms become more prominent as she tightens a particularly complicated area of the trap, which she as affectionately named The Butterfly.

Her shirt hitches up slightly as she reaches to a higher spot than she can naturally reach. She stands on her tip-toes, the shirt moving higher up her back so he can see the two dimples on her hips, and the sweat rolling down her back.

Without missing a beat, she says, "I didn't know if we stopped actually doing stuff that you'd start eye-fucking me."

A rough chuckle escapes his lips and he replies, "I am a man, after all."

"Coulda fooled me, _Detective Hoffman_." She says cheekily, putting extra emphasis on his title, noting the irony in it all.

Hoffman starts in with his reply, "Looking at you, you're obviously a woman," He says, and watches her shoulders shake with a triumphant laugh, "but once you open your _mouth_, then it all goes out the door."

"Ha!" Amanda roughly laughs, tossing the wrench into the bucket and turning around to face him, hands on her hips, and she taunts him, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "My mouth is perfectly capable of other things too."

"Oh, I _know_."

"Pig."

"You're the one who brought it up." Hoffman says, unshakable, as he walks over to her, his eyes staring past her and landing on the contraption she has created.

She smirks at him, "Impressed?"

"Impressed that you had the brain to accomplish something like this."

"Well," She huffs, arms crossed underneath her breasts, "I think I should be insulted."

"Technically, I called you smart."

"_Technically_, you slighted me in the process, fucker."

He smiles at her, and she is taken aback by the tenderness of it all. Times like these, just playfully jostling her ego and her temper, are the times that he cherishes. They are times that he is glad that he had done something different than what John had seen fit. If he would have closed off his emotions completely, he would never have known this kind of feeling around Amanda, and it was something that he would have hated to have missed out on.

Though, when he thinks about it now, he knows that he wouldn't have been able to keep himself from feeling _something _for her.

Whatever walls he had built up to protect himself had been crashed through by Amanda Young.

She looks at him, large brown eyes glittering with something he can't quite place, and he raises an eyebrow at her as a half-smile curves his full lips. He remembers first meeting her, John bringing her into the space they saved for working on various traps, her eyes were frantic, but at peace at the same time. She had looked like she had been through hell. Her hair was cropped short and was spiky. She was the first known survivor of Jigsaw's game, and apparently, the new apprentice.

At first, Hoffman had felt thrown away. He thought that _he _was the one to be the successor to John's legacy, to make the grand scheme of all of the Jigsaw's killings known to the world, but then _there she was_. Suddenly, there was an obstacle in his way, and he hated it.

He was used to being John's only partner. And, though it made it easier to get the victims kidnapped with three people - and Amanda was small, she could fit into smaller spaces - he had found himself getting aggravated with her, frustrated.

He didn't know when it started, but sooner or later, Amanda began chipping away at the wall he had surrounded himself and his emotions in. Gradually, bit by painful bit, she wormed her way into his heart and stayed there, in the process completely destroying his emotional barrier into pieces at his feet.

As he remembers all those times, he feels Amanda's hand on his arm, her eyes staring up into his own, catlike in nature. Predatory. He only knew what that look meant.

"Don't think too hard, you might hurt something." She smirks, eyes glittering menacingly.

"I could tell you the same thing."

She lets out a breath between her teeth, rolling her eyes as she does so, "Idiot."

And, as she presses her lips softly against his, he hopes, despite everything that is going on at the moment, that this would last.

In the back of his mind, however, he knows it won't.

* * *

_**End.**_

_Well, there it is! My first attempt at HoffmanAmanda. And, though this might seem unlikely, considering that we now know who wrote Amanda that letter in Saw III, I really don't care. I love the pairing and I love writing them. Especially like this. _

_So, I would love some feedback for this. I'd love to hear fellow Saw fans (as well as Hoffmanda fans) give me their opinions._

_Thanks for reading! And Happy New Year!_


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